


when the wilted roses bloom

by FrostybWitch



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A sprinkle of fluff, F/F, Silver Snow compliant, a sprinkle of angst, modern day reincarnation AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostybWitch/pseuds/FrostybWitch
Summary: “I didn’t get your name.”The smartly dressed stranger smiles.“I’m Byleth, the curator of this museum,” she pauses, the ends of her lips curling with a peculiar twinkle in her eyes that gives away nothing. “But you can call me Professor if you want. Since I happen to teach part-time at Garreg Mach University too.”Edelgard blinks.“Professor…” She’s unsure why, but she had instinctively decided to go with the latter instead. The title rolls off her tongue like butter. Smooth. Easy, without hesitation.As if it’s meant to always be.ORthe modern day reincarnation AU fic that is based off every single regret that Byleth has had in Silver Snow.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 125





	when the wilted roses bloom

Edelgard doesn’t know for sure how she had ended up here — in the Garreg Mach National History Museum of all places.

She barely even remembers making the journey. One moment, her head was full, heavy with the thoughts of her future beyond the pressed uniforms of Garreg Mach Academy. And the rest of the world had easily blurred away into a swirl of technicolour around her.

One thing led to another, as if guided by a string — or the pull of providence — her legs had ultimately brought her here.

To the display case of one of the greatest hero relic uncovered of all times.

She absently traces the indents of the elegant script embedded in the information plaque before her.

“ _Aymr_ …” Edelgard reads, in a quiet rush of a whisper that leaves her oddly… breathless.

Instinctively, she seeks after the ancient relic sleeping in its glass tomb. Her eyes curiously rove over the bulky frame of the mighty axe, taking in the saw-toothed edges of its uniquely curved blade that has unfortunately dulled and rusted over with time. Yet, despite its rundown condition, speckled with visible spots of corrosion, it still looks deadlier as ever — regal in its final resting spot in the glass display of the museum.

No doubt, great care has been put into the preservation of the relic. Even so, Edelgard is more than sure that the once-mighty relic has seen better days. She can almost see it in her mind’s eye. The way each barbed cutting-edge would glint viciously under the light, its hilt polished and smooth. A dignified subject to its Master. How easily it could tear through the flesh of its enemies, cutting them down and spilling crimson over—

Edelgard starts with a sharp breath.

It takes her about one hard blink and a wobbly hand to her temple, before she’s able to summon the strength to push the abnormally vivid images out of her head.

 _What was…_ that _?_

Refusing to dwell on it any further, she passes it all off as her overactive imagination, fuelled on by nights of binging through history documentaries.

(And pretends not to notice the imperceptible tremble to her fingers or the sudden weakness in her knees.)

As Edelgard glances up again at the relic, the faded gem — no, _crest stone_ , Edelgard corrects herself as the history nerd in her demands the need to be historically correct — in its centre catches her eye. She draws in close as if spellbound, entranced by the muted lustre of the scarlet crest stone.

Once upon a time, it must have glowed brilliantly. A symbol of raw power and strength. It still is. And the dull swirl of deep red pulls Edelgard in, as she presses her palm up against the cool glass of the display.

There’s just something about it all.

Something that she can’t put a finger to.

But she swears it’s on the tip of her tongue…

“Aymr,” she calls out unthinkingly to no one and nothing in particular.

The name of the relic rolls of her tongue with great ease as her voice echoes back at her in the seemingly empty exhibit. Confident and commanding. And it startles even herself at how effortlessly she has taken to its name.

Edelgard continues to stare, stare and _stare_ at the relic some more; her heart pounding in her ears and her palm sweating against the display glass. Call it a trick of the light, but she could have sworn for a split of a second, the washed-out crest stone had twinkled back at her.

Almost as though if it was reacting to—

“Contrary to popular belief, it isn’t actually a heroes’ relic.”

At the sudden lilt of a mellow voice coming from right behind her, Edelgard jolts hard. So much so, she finds herself jumping bodily with an unflattering squeak that escapes her lips despite herself.

Embarrassed at having been caught… doing whatever she was doing, she pries her hand away and springs back from the display of Aymr at a breakneck speed. But in her haste to stumble clear from the display, her feet had ended up tangling over itself in an ungainly mess, and as Edelgard’s lucky stars would have had it — she misses her footing.

Just like that, the rest of the world tips back on its axis.

“It’s more of an artificial relic,” the smooth, dulcet voice carries on without missing a beat.

And the bruising impact of her fall never came.

Instead, a firm grip steadies Edelgard by her shoulder. And on the sharp inhale of her gasp that hitches in her throat, she catches the faint fragrance of flowers and sunshine. Just barely teasing her nostrils.

When she finally chances a glance up at her saviour, she finds herself struck by the greenest pair of eyes she has ever seen. It takes Edelgard all of a belated second to realise that her saviour’s lips are still moving — and that she’s probably still addressing her.

“…man-made, it was a weapon made specifically to be wielded only by—”

“—Emperor Edelgard,” finishes Edelgard, albeit rather breathlessly.

Gathering her wits together with a good mental shake, she steps away from the stranger’s warm grasp.

“I know. I’m well-read on my history,” she says, smoothing down on her Garreg Mach Academy blazer in her stride to ignore the heat searing her cheeks.

Edelgard forces herself to hold her head up high. To brace herself and meet the inquisitive gaze of this ridiculously attractive stranger head-on…

Only to realise that the other woman’s attention is no longer on her. But instead, riveted onto the relic resting peacefully in its glass display.

“I suppose I probably should have had it displayed in its appropriate exhibit,” the stranger murmurs pensively, looking over the ancient relic with an unreadable expression that borders on the fringes of wistful regret.

Holding her palm up against the smooth glass just as Edelgard did before, the look in her eyes deepens just much so, glazing over — turning glassy. Her gaze is fond, albeit faraway. Distant. As though her mind had been spirited away to another time, another place.

“Then again, it was wielded by a hero after all,” she says quietly, staring at the relic with unseeing eyes. The corners of her lips curl with great pride. “A great one.”

Though, Edelgard can’t help but think that her smile looks sad, almost sorrowful, all the same.

She continues staring at the woman surreptitiously, taking in the way her fair, wispy hair frames her soft, feminine features and equally pale eyes. She looks like a vision, just standing there in her navy turtleneck that is topped off with a stylish grey blazer hanging crisply off her shoulders.

Beautiful. Just like a still-painting.

Edelgard wouldn’t even think twice if someone were to claim that the stranger is part of the exhibit.

“What’s your name?” Dropping her hand from the glass display, the stranger turns to look sidelong at Edelgard with a hint of a friendly smile twitching at her lips.

And when she’s face-to-face with the stranger like this, Edelgard finds herself struck dumb by her beauty — as if she hadn’t already been before.

For one hot second, she forgets her own name.

“I’m Edelgard,” she manages somewhat stiffly. Albeit, thankfully without embarrassing herself for the second time during the course of their interaction so far.

A ‘win’ by any means.

“After the Emperor?” the stranger hums musingly. She closes in on Edelgard with a step forward and reaches in. “How fitting…”

Ever so gingerly, she thumbs a lock of Edelgard’s chestnut-brown hair, watching as it falls through the gaps of her fingers like silk.

It’s an overfamiliar gesture. One that in any other circumstances, Edelgard would have shirked away from. But for some reason, with this stranger, Edelgard doesn’t particularly mind it.

Instead, she makes better use of their close proximity to stare up at the stranger, studying her features better.

Up close like this, Edelgard can just about see the wistful tones of nostalgia pooling in the forest of her eyes, softening them to a dew-like green. But the expression on the stranger’s face is otherwise — inscrutable.

Enigmatic, almost.

The faint smile on her lips like a secret she’s worn for days.

Years even.

With a quiet breath, the beautiful stranger pulls her hand away, albeit not before carefully circling Edelgard’s hair behind her ear. Her fingers barely graze the curve of her cheek as she does so, and it sends a pleasant tingle down Edelgard’s spine.

“Well, it’s getting late and I’m afraid we’re closing in ten.”

At that, Edelgard gives a sudden start.

“Oh! U-um, I suppose I should be on my way too.”

Her attention turns to the watch ticking away on her wrist, as if suddenly remembering herself — as well as the time. It hadn’t felt particularly long, but she’s been at the museum for a good two hours now without even realising. Far too long than she had initially intended.

She still needs to pack.

As Edelgard begins to scramble for a hasty exit, she stops — right before she puts her foot out of the exhibit. She turns to look over her shoulder at the stranger who’s still watching her with a soft, unreadable look.

“I didn’t get your name.”

The smartly dressed stranger smiles.

“I’m Byleth, the curator of this museum,” she pauses, the ends of her lips curling with a peculiar twinkle in her eyes that gives away nothing. “But you can call me Professor if you want. Since I happen to teach part-time at Garreg Mach University too.”

Edelgard blinks.

“Professor…” She’s unsure why, but she had instinctively decided to go with the latter instead. The title rolls off her tongue like butter. Smooth. Easy, without hesitation.

As if it’s meant to always be.

“Will I…” Edelgard begins only to cut herself off.

It’s foolish thinking she’ll ever meet this devastatingly beautiful woman again. Considering that it is her last day in Garreg Mach; before she’s shipped back to her home state in Enbarr for college. It’s unlikely that she’ll be returning back to Garreg Mach any time soon — if not ever.

So instead, Edelgard draws her shoulders together and braces a small, albeit cordial smile. “It’s nice meeting you, Professor.”

With a quick nod, she makes haste to leave the museum. Not one to harp over the things she can’t have.

And she misses the quiet sigh that leaves Byleth’s lips as she turns to watch Edelgard leave wistfully.

“It’s nice meeting you too… Edelgard.”

* * *

It’s strange.

But periodically over the course of the next couple years, Edelgard finds herself turning back to that one memory when she was eighteen. Fresh out of high school, albeit still dressed in her Garreg Mach Academy best. Her uniform pressed, as she stands by the display case of Aymr.

It’s one of those memories that linger on and never truly leaves.

Time to time, she catches herself thinking of green eyes and fair hair. Turtlenecks and grey business blazers. Feminine features on top of flawless skin.

She thinks about Byleth — the Professor from Garreg Mach University, and the curator of Garreg Mach National Museum — a lot. Far more than she’s willing to admit.

Usually, she crosses Edelgard’s mind right before she sleeps. Sometimes when she’s feeling exam stressed. Or when she’s eating, and half-listening to Dorothea prattle on about marrying rich and the likes.

Sometimes even during her dates with the various boys and girls that happen to catch her eye on campus — that always end up falling short somehow.

It’s almost embarrassing how much the Professor — Byleth — consumes her thoughts even though they have only really just met once.

So much so that Edelgard begins dreaming in green and at times — teal blue.

She wonders if she’ll ever see her again.

Wonders if it’s even possible to miss someone whom she’s barely had a fifteen-minute-long interaction with.

But just like everything else going on in her hectic life, she thinks little of it and simply shelfs it all in a faraway corner in her mind — and heart — to re-evaluate at a later date and time.

Perhaps, another day.

_One day._

* * *

The day arrives on a particularly cool autumn afternoon.

This time, Edelgard is older. Twenty-three — and five years older, to be exact. No longer the same bright-eyed and bushy-tailed high schooler fresh out of some preppy boarding school.

No, she had spent the last two years of her life working at one of her father’s subsidiary companies in Enbarr, learning the ropes and going through the motions of a white-collar automaton. So, as per the mantra of a mindless workaholic: where the job goes, Edelgard will follow.

And this time, it had brought her back.

To Garreg Mach.

Although, this time, instead of standing over the glass display of Aymr, Edelgard finds herself staring up at the portrait of her namesake — the late and last monarch of Adrestia.

Emperor Edelgard.

Back ramrod straight with her hands clasped primly in front of her person as she sits back in her ornate throne, the Emperor had made for a rather imposing picture. Cladded in crimson with her horned crown framing her silvery locks and equally fair features. Her severe, albeit battle-worn gaze stares back at Edelgard.

Solemn and ever so unflinching.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you here again.”

Edelgard gives a small start. A tiny catch of her breath as her heart stutters over a clumsy beat.

All in recognition of that mellow _voice_.

The very same one that has been haunting her dreams. Claiming her nights and her days. Cycling through her head in odd bits and pieces of indistinct conversation, looping on in a memory that linger on ceaselessly.

With a breath, Edelgard steels herself and quietens her heart. Then, she turns on her heels.

“Professor,” she greets, her voice an even calm despite the tempest of emotions building within her.

Because there she is.

The woman that has been constantly plaguing her mind — since that one wintry evening, five years ago.

Professor Byleth in the flesh.

“Edelgard.” And just like five years ago, her smile is warm. Like the spring day sun. Her eyes are still that vivid shade of green that Edelgard so clearly remembers. A dense forest of secrets waiting to be solved. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Edelgard returns in a tiny voice, and an equally matching small, albeit shy smile. “I didn’t think you’d remember me. Much less my name.”

Byleth — the Professor — closes in on her with a tentative step forwards. The business blazer that clings off her shoulders swishes behind her with the movement.

And in two heartbeats, she’s standing there. Right in front of Edelgard. Just barely an arm’s length away.

Her eyes dart across Edelgard’s countenance, as if taking stock of her visage.

“I don’t think I can ever forget a face quite like yours,” she says, quietly.

It’s an honest admission that feels oddly loaded for whatever reasons. And as Byleth’s gaze softens inexplicably with an unreadable expression, it only makes Edelgard’s heart swell — maybe, pound a little harder.

She glances up at the mysterious Professor, meeting her enigmatic gaze head on.

And for the first time, she notices that she hasn’t aged one bit in the five years since they last met.

A youthful face framed by luminous fair skin and bright emerald eyes. There’s a certain agelessness to her. An otherworldly sort of beauty that transcends both time and space.

In same the manner where Edelgard can’t seem to pin an age down on her. Other than the fact that she looks to be in her early to mid-twenties. Just like Edelgard.

But that can’t be so.

_Can it?_

“So, what brings you back?” asks the Professor, her voice mellow and patient.

Edelgard shrugs. She turns her attention back to the likeness of the late Emperor who is frowning down at them with her grave violet eyes. There’s an uncanny familiarity to the portrait that Edelgard recognises. But doesn’t at the same time.

Like a dream, half-remembered.

“Something about Garreg Mach keeps pulling me back,” murmurs Edelgard absently. “The places, the people... Every time I’m here it’s like déjà vu and I just can’t explain why.”

“That’s the magic of Garreg Mach I suppose.”

On her next breath, Edelgard’s heart catches in her throat.

Having finally noticed the distance — or lack thereof — between her and the Professor. Their shoulders brushing ever so as the other woman too, inclines her head to gaze up at the portrait of Emperor Edelgard. The faint notes of honeysuckle and wildflowers wafts through the air.

And it’s a comforting, almost nostalgic scent.

“You just can’t stay away for long,” murmurs Byleth quietly. Privately. More to herself than anything else as she regards the well-preserved portrait of the Emperor hanging up on the exhibit’s wall with a fond, albeit wistful.

But it fades as soon as she turns her attention back on Edelgard with a dazzling smile that causes Edelgard’s heart to stumble over itself.

“Can I take you out for tea some time?” she puts forth boldly, all confidence and candour. Her intention is clear without the barest trace of hesitation.

There’s something archaic about the request. But it’s charming all the same. Oddly apt for someone like Byleth. And it makes Edelgard’s chest tighten and her stomach to flip.

The resulting blush that stains her cheeks is something that she’s completely powerless to as she peers up at the Professor coyly. “Tea? Most people do coffee, you know that right?”

Byleth only further closes the distance between them, stepping in closer. The smile she wears on her face is absolutely radiant if not a touch enigmatic, curving its way into her eyes like a playful secret.

“Something tells me that you’re more of a tea person.”

And the rest, they say it’s history.

Though, to Edelgard it’s merely the start of everything.

**Author's Note:**

> love it, hate it? let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> or feel free to come yell at me [@frostybwitch](http://www.twitter.com/frostybwitch) ~ twitter
> 
> or maybe buy me a cup of [coffee](http://www.ko-fi.com/frostybwitch) even ;)


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